


The Deal (Version 2.0)

by Amandasfire



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29765130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amandasfire/pseuds/Amandasfire
Summary: Takes place directly after the events in New X-Men #117, when Jean approaches Logan in the woods and he turns her down. There was no way in hell that's how it should have gone down, so this fic was spent correcting that little aberration in the timeline...
Relationships: Emma Frost/Scott Summers, Jean Grey/Logan (X-Men)
Kudos: 6





	1. The Call

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Deal](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/768099) by Amandasfire (Me). 



> A long long time ago in a galaxy far far away (just kidding, it was a crap flat with a roommate in 2009, and that's clearly the wrong fandom...) I wrote what started as a distraction from real life and ended up becoming quite a long and epic fanfic. It ended up being an awesome vehicle for storytelling and bringing people together as a writing/fandom community, and I really needed it back then. My life's changed at lot since then; I grew up, have my own family, a career-- but I am still a huge X-Men fan. The pandemic got me writing again (you can check out my other current work on here), so just for fun I decided to polish this story up and bring it on over from FFN to the Archive. I left in all the early '00 references, because I like the retro aura (flip phones, anyone?), but I edited for some content, spelling, grammar, and just in general made it a lil' extra spiffy. It's a very soapy fic-- we're talking, straight up bar of Ivory-- and I was pretty young when I wrote it, but it's still a hell of a fun ride. Enjoy!

**Chapter 1: The Call**

It began with a phone call.

The whole mess began with a phone call—a drunk dial, something I thought I'd left behind me with my college academy years. This time, though, it was different. That one call started me on a course that, months ago… well… I couldn't even have imagined.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

It was past midnight and I was awake, fighting one of the many bouts of insomnia that had been plaguing me as of late. Every night, I was living the same mundane story. Scott and I would go to bed together. I would read, he'd carefully take off his day glasses and put on his night visor, and we'd both say goodnight. Click, he'd turn off the bedside lamp. Ten minutes later he'd be snoring and I'd be wide awake and not the least bit interested in staring at the patterns on the ceiling.

That night in particular I had wandered into the kitchen, standing in the refrigerator light in search of something low calorie yet tasty. Emma had a good habit of stocking up on weight watcher products that I stole whenever the chance arose (the danger room only burns so many calories), when my cell phone rang. I looked at the time and saw it was close to 2am. The number was unavailable.

I hesitated for a second or two before I flipped it open, mentally shrugging. I wasn't sleeping anyway, and even if it was a wrong number it was still more interesting than scouring for 100 Calorie Snack Bites at two in the morning. Not to mention it's pretty difficult to prank call a telepath, considering my mind's about a hundred times better than star-sixty-nine.

"Hello?" I said.

"Jeannie," came the rough voice on the other end of the line. I recognized it immediately.

"Logan?" I said, surprised.

There was no reply, but I heard a muted clink, like glass hitting pavement. Probably dropped his beer. I wondered how much he'd had. Considering it was 2am, I was guessing a keg or six.

"Logan, where are you?" I asked, the dim glow of light in the otherwise dark and empty kitchen making the conversation seem strangely intimate. "Are you in trouble?"

There was a slow breath at the end of the line, and then his voice again.

"Jeannie, you're beautiful baby, did I tell ya that lately..? "

I rolled my eyes, despite the fact that no one was there to witness the performance. I could tell already I didn't like the direction this was going. Not that I couldn't take a compliment, just so much as I knew that when he sobered up this was going to get awkward.

"Logan you're drunk. Where are you?"

"Mmm'at a payphone. I couldn't stop thinkin' about you darlin'.. I .. had to call, I…" his voice came through, scratchy low and desperate. "I just wanted to talk to ya, Jeannie. It seems like we never talk anymore."

 _Which wouldn't be my fault_ , I mused. _I'm not the one who makes monosyllabic exits and then disappears for months at a time._ But I knew better than to argue with an inebriated Wolverine.

"Logan...tell me how much you've had to drink. Did you put the bar out of business yet?"

There was a pause on the end of the line.

"I dunno Red. Lost count. Two bottles a' Jameson… eight shots of whiskey…"

"Really, that's it, eight shots? Sure it wasn't closer to eighty?" I said sarcastically, taking a glass out of the cupboard and placing it on the counter. I got out the milk and poured it slowly, cell phone cradled against my shoulder. I checked the carton and realized it was Oat Milk. Oh well.

"Does'n' matter," he slurred. "What matters is what I've gotta tell you because I know if I don't now I never will. Jeannie I—"

"Logan! Wait-- just-- wait!" I said quickly, waving my hands as if he could see them, hoping to cut him off, but it came out anyway.

"I love you Jean. I been in love with you since the day I met you. I know I can't have you and it tears me up inside, it feels like something's got ahold of my guts, it feels like –"

"Logan…" I said, squeezing my eyes shut at the onslaught of words. And then softer, "Logan, stop. Stop." I wasn't embarrassed—really, I was flattered if anything, but I knew that he was going to regret this, and knowing how it was going to be between us made me cringe. If there had been a rift between us today, it was going to be a canyon tomorrow.

"Listen to me! Are you listening?" I said loudly, putting a hand against my forehead. This was going to be some walk of shame tomorrow. Maybe his healing factor would be kind enough to erase this when it sobered him up. We'd pretended this long; what was another lie between friends?

"You're drunk Logan. Don't hang up, take a second to sober up—I don't want you driving -- you want to talk, we'll talk. All right? I can forget this ever happened. Okay? Let's just start over. Where are you, anyway?"

I took a long drink of milk and waited for his response. It tasted vaguely of oats.

There was a silence on the end of the line.

"Gotta go," the gruff voice said suddenly.

"Wait, Logan wait I—" I started, but then there was a click as the line went dead.

I stood there barefoot, in the kitchen, holding my glass of milk.

More interesting than ceiling patterns, indeed.

* * *

After that incident, not surprisingly, Wolverine never said a thing. His pride was wounded, that I knew for certain, but I thought I'd at least get a joking apology, or maybe even some crass innuendo sent my way to cover his true chagrin. Instead, he straight up ignored me. And to my annoyance, and then alarm, it started to drive me crazy.

I knew it had just been Logan on a bender, Logan being Logan and indulging in his perpetual self-destructive side. Nothing new. Yet, for some reason, I couldn't seem to get the words out of my head.

It was ridiculous. I was mad at him, mad at myself for caring so much. I heard those words every day, from my husband. Scott saying, "I love you," in passing, as he left. But it was something else… the tone of his voice. That raw need, that was something that caught at me, something that I hadn't heard in a long, long time. Something that stirred my curiosity in a way that felt good, and wrong. Something a part of me craved.

"I love you Jean." Something in me couldn't let it go. I found myself daydreaming about it after I'd dismissed the class. And at night, I felt the little hairs at the back of my neck stand up as I wondered just what it would be like… what would love like that feel like...taste like...? But then, I would only let myself wonder so far.

I didn't know the half of it then, but a little imagination would prove to be be a dangerous thing.


	2. The Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean's tired of not getting what she wants. Warning; explicit.

Logan had been gone for four days—skulking into the mansion during the daytime and disappearing at night—when I finally decided to go see him. I thought our distance was pointless, and nothing that couldn't be fixed with a few easy words. He obviously wasn't going to do it, so I chose to be the bigger person and sort this out.

Carefully, I cast my mind out like a net, encompassing the forest that surrounded the land. After a few minutes of searching, I saw his mind, bright and pulsing like a star. I started out on a path towards the forest, fully intending to smooth things over between us.

It was a good two miles out from the mansion, and I was slightly winded by the time I got there. I could tell he was doing some kind of yoga, or meditation. It made his mind glow. A few meters before I reached the clearing, I telepathically transformed myself into the illusion of a deer, knowing Logan would immediately sniff me out. I saw the small smile on his face as he recognized me, and I dropped the psy-image, glad he'd appreciated the joke. Bingo, his defenses were down.

"Long climb for a fortune cookie, Jeannie," he said, his back to me, and his voice held the gravelly calm of someone far off, so different from the emotional turmoil that was brewing inside of me.

I had only good intentions—just a friendly chat. But when I started talking to him, I couldn't stop. Before I knew it, what had started as a simple greeting turned into a messy confessional.

"My telekinetic gifts are coming back, and it's like this big muscle," I explained, "…and I feel so strong and alive and Scott…Scott's just somewhere else…" 

Once I had started going, the whole story come out at once.

To make a long and personally painful story short--I ended up spilling my heart out to him. Everything, all at once: Scott, my powers, the countless worries that had kept me up night after night. It had been building in my mind for so long that it all came out wrong, jumbled and disjointed.

When I'd finished talking, without saying a word, he'd pulled me to him and my heartbeat tripled. I thought--I knew--what was finally going to happen.

His lips touched mine with a small jolt of electricity…and then he pulled away. He ran one hand lightly through my hair, a serious look in his eyes, and then he said the words I never thought I'd hear.

"We both know the deal. We always have. It would never work between us."

Those words hit me like a slap in the face. Honestly, I think part of me just couldn't believe he'd said what I heard him say. It wasn't what I was expecting. Ever the repressed telepath, I managed to maintain my composure and hide my disappointment and surprise, but inside I was absolutely seething. I backed away from him a few feet, feeling suddenly foolish.

"I know. You're right Logan, of course…" I said, trying to keep my voice even, though a bitter taste formed in my mouth.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I…I don't know what I was thinking. I should—I should go back, they're expecting me."

I turned and walked away, my face hot with humiliation, frustration, a light tingling sensation still playing on my lips.

Logan couldn't sense the deep hurt—the embarrassment of it—because I had my shields on high, but God, I did. I felt it like a knife through my chest.

Shallow as it sounds, to say it was a blow to my ego would be the understatement of the year. It was a last straw. It put me under a dark cloud that seemed to follow me everywhere I went, a lightless place from which I could not emerge. It wasn't just a rejection; it was who I was, who he was, who we were. Or had been.

Logan. Wolverine. All these years…he'd chased me. Pursued me. Relentlessly, aggressively. Dogged me at every turn. Driven Scott to the brink of insanity. He'd tested, teased, pushed until I had no choice but to push back. And I had never come to him, never initiated any of it, until now.

And he had flat out turned me down.

Why? Why all that effort just to let me slip through his fingers? Had I really sunk that low, or was this just some twisted sense of honor he felt he had to uphold?

Jesus. I'd had two men battling for my affections and now I couldn't even get one man to hold me out of pity. An estranged husband was bad enough, but this…

I wondered if Logan knew. I wondered if somewhere inside he felt smug about it, or if he felt the loss as acutely as I did. Was he bluffing? With Wolverine, it was always impossible to tell.

I wanted nothing more than to find out.

* * *

Things got worse with Scott. I'm not saying this to defend my actions, or try to justify anything that happened, but it was the truth. He had been cold and distant as of late, and even though we shared a psy-link I was met by an icy silence in his head.

We shared a bed together, but that was all. When we made love, it was infrequent and perfunctory. He was always a cautious, polite lover, and made sure I was satisfied first, but often I got the feeling he was just going through the motions—this is something you're supposed to do with your wife, so we'll do it, and then we can both go to sleep.

I knew he thought about Emma. He tried to shield it from me, but I knew, and I didn't care.

Insomnia—every night, I would lie awake. Think about the missions. Think about what I could do differently next time. Think about my marriage, my life, the burden of my power. And then I would always end up thinking about that stupid phone call, and our kiss. It tortured me, thinking about that kiss.

I don't know what made me decide to do it, finally. I'd had a long, miserable day. I'd given a terribly unimpressive presentation at a very important summit meeting and I came home feeling tired and cross. Scott had ignored me and I'd snapped at him. I know I should've felt bad about it, but in truth I felt nothing at all.

I think it was at that moment, as the words "Scott, I don't care!" were flying out of my mouth, that a part of me knew what I was going to do. A guilty, hungry part of me.

I stayed up that night, long after Scott had gone to bed, not bothering to ask me if I wanted to join him. I watched the moon rise through my bedroom window, my whole body singing with anticipation. I'd run over and over the fantasy so many times in my head, but I'd never thought of it being real…until now. Here I was, and I was contemplating adultery. I was thinking of cheating. I had no trouble admitting it to myself, because nothing was going to cushion the blow. I'd always hidden, I'd always run. Now I was going to face it down. I was going to face Logan down, and I wasn't going to walk away until I found our truth, whatever it was.

So many times, for so many years we'd been put in the same situations, he and I, and every time I had been the one to back down and turn away. It wasn't because I was disinterested, it was because I was scared. And now, I was sick of my own cowardice, thinly disguised as moral objection. Just once, I wanted to be the one to give in to my passions. I was so damn tired of being perfect. All perfection ever brought was misery.

Those were excuses, and I knew it, but it didn't stop me from wanting to stray.

Scott had done it. Was doing it with Emma. He certainly seemed to have no qualms about kicking me out of his head, seemed to have no problems with my suspicious glances shot his way, my silent anger. So why shouldn't I do the same? All these years, the same siren song had been calling to me. The same spark had brushed between us. And I had ignored it. I'd turned my head away. I'd said no. I'd said no so many times when I'd wanted to say yes, give in, be pulled in by him and just let go. Logan.

Logan. God, him of all people turning me away. I could feel my face and neck burn just thinking about it. The one time I didn't have the strength to say no anymore, and he says it instead. I felt the burning spread to my chest. I thought of the phone call. _No matter what he says when he's sober_ , I thought, _no matter how noble he wants to be, I know what I am to him._

Everything.

When the mansion was in a state of quiet, a static psychic snow of dreaming minds, I stepped outside.

There in the night air, the glow of the mansion behind me, I felt brave, and foolish and terrified at once. But I wasn't going to stop. Not this time.

I took the familiar trail over the hill and onto the small cliff that overlooked the point where the forest grew dense. It was dark, but the inky black was illuminated by moonlight. As the warm lights of our familiar home faded behind me I walked on, sinking deeper into the night.

My mind led me to the same place, the same clearing, two miles out.

I knew he was there before I saw him. At first, all I could see was the dark outline of a man, but the posture was unmistakable. He was on his haunches, staring intently at something through the trees too far away for me to see. My hand accidentally brushed against a branch in the dark and he immediately stood up and turned in one fluid movement to face me. I saw his fist instinctively clench, but his claws remained sheathed.

"Jeannie?" he asked, rather curiously, his face obscured by the dark.

Suddenly, seeing him there in the flesh, hearing his voice, made it painfully real. In an instant, all plans of seduction flew out of my head. I felt myself blushing, awkward. He took a step towards me and my heart thumped wildly. What was I doing here? Had I lost my mind?

"You all right darlin'?" he asked, his tone still curious, his expression almost indecipherable in the dark.

"Yes, I – " I stammered, trying to regain my composure. I pulled my hair back from my face, looking away from him. "I — I couldn't sleep," I finished lamely.

Logan chuckled. "Well ya came to the right place. Wolverine in the middle of the woods, doesn't get more exciting than this."

"Guess not," I said, forcing a short laugh. In the soft light, I could see that he was shirtless and a sudden wave of arousal swept through me so strongly that my knees felt weak.

"You're shaking," he said, eyes narrowing, and I felt his eyes glide quickly over me like a predator. "Somethin' wrong?"

"I'm just cold," I lied, and to my horror and amazement, the words came out sounding seductive. I could feel him so close to me, radiating warmth. He gave me an odd look.

"Jeannie, it's 80 degrees out here, what gives?" he replied, in an almost humorous tone. 

"I don't know... maybe you can warm me up," I said, the words coming out of my mouth without warning in a way that partly thrilled and partly horrified me, and then it was too late. It didn't feel real, I didn't feel in control of my body, I just knew that I was moving towards him, leaning into him. I placed my hands over his heavily muscled shoulders and felt a light shiver run through him.

"Jean," he said, a sharp twinge entering his tone. But he hadn't moved away. He was standing still, trying to figure me out. His first instinct; this was a trap. This wasn't real.

"What're you doing darlin'?" His voice was lower, almost a soft growl. "I mean, what're you really doing?"

"I know what you want, Logan," I said, suddenly finding the courage to abandon all pretense. I pressed my body against his with a deep sigh, my breasts against his chest, my hips against his. "I know," I whispered, looking pleadingly up at him, "I want it too, Logan. Just once. Please. It's been so long and..."

I tried to push closer, but it was like touching stone—his whole body was stiff and I could feel the agitation rolling off his mind in waves.

"Jean, stop," he said roughly, and his tone of voice shocked me. I looked into his face and I saw an expression of anger, made harsher by the deep shadows.

"Look, Jeannie," he said, voice rough and low. "I thought we were on the same page with this. It won't work. We've agreed." He turned his back to me. "You have a husband. You have Scott. I get what you're lookin' for, but you should leave me the hell out of it."

He turned again to face me, his body language restless, pacing. "You know where we stand," he growled. "Why are ya doing this to me now?" he demanded.

He stopped in his tracks and looked me straight in the eyes, the keen suspicion shining through. I looked away, confused and flustered. It hit me. He didn't trust me. He thought this was all some elaborate play for Scott's affections.

"Am I some little game a yours Jeannie, 'cause you got bored?" He asked, his eyes flashing. "'Cause you know exactly how I feel. I ain't been shy about it. You've always known how I felt."

"Then why won't you let me..?" I asked, moving towards him. He backed away as if my very presence burned him.

"It ain't right. This isn't…you're not thinkin' straight here Jean, and I don't want to be the one to take advantage. I thought I made it clear last time. I ain't as stupid you think, I see what's happenin'. I know I'm just some goddamn pawn in this thing you've got going on between you an' Emma and _him_."

His voice was unmistakably bitter and he clenched his fists so tightly I winced, expecting to hear the metallic _snikt_ of his claws, but it never happened. He just stood there, a man trapped.

I moved forward to try and touch him again, but he grabbed both hands by my wrists, hard enough to hurt. I felt a little spike of fear shoot through me but I stood my ground.

"It's not a game Logan," I said indignantly, struggling against him. "So what if it doesn't work, so what if we—if we aren't supposed to-- I don't care, dammit!" I said loudly enough I heard my voice echo off the trees. "I want this. I don't need you to feel sorry for me, or look after me, I know what I want! We both do!" 

He held me perfectly still, hands vice-like around my wrists.

"You can't deny me!" I blurted out, and I saw his jaw tighten.

We stood mere inches apart, our eyes locked. Slowly, he released his grip on my wrists, face still hard, unreadable.

"You can smell it on me, can't you Logan? You know I'm not lying. You know exactly what I came here for. And if you didn't want it too, you'd be gone by now."

His eyes flickered down. Caught. I had the upper hand, momentarily.

I moved in again and he didn't stop me. I ran my hands over his chest, against his stomach. His head angled down ever so slightly and I felt his breath, hot against my ear. I knew he was scenting me, breathing me in, I knew I was breaking down his defenses. I pressed my face against his neck, feeling his body heat and whispered, "Don't make me beg for it, Logan."

I could feel his body taut underneath my hands. He was straining, energy humming in his bones.

"Please," I whispered, so quietly I could barely hear myself. I could feel his pulse, so strong and alive. I angled my own head slightly so that my lips were against his skin, just barely brushing his neck. "I want this. I want you. Just for tonight, that's all, I promise."

"Jeannie," he said, his voice shaking, "Don't. You don't know what you're askin' for darlin' and I can't… I can't stop myself. You don't know what you do to me, Jean. You don't..."

The last part turned into a plea. His hands came up to tangle in my hair, smoothing their way down my back, and I could tell he was using all his strength to be gentle, hold back. I could feel it. He was cracking. He was trying to be the honorable one, but he knew that in the end he was going to lose. The sense of power that gave me made me dizzy, and I wondered how well he could sense my arousal, how far his senses would push him over the edge.

So I decided to throw in my hand, give him no doubt as to exactly what my intentions were. Without hesitation, I took my shirt by the hem and pulled it up over my head, tossing it aside. I unhooked my bra and threw it aside as well. There, naked from the waist up in the moonlight, I let his hungry gaze drink me in. I was breathing hard, my face was flushed, and all I wanted to do was tease him so that he'd break free, run for me, take me down with him.

"Don't argue with me, Logan. I want you, now." I said to him in a low, serious tone. We were both breathing quickly. I leaned in closer to his ear. "I want you to fuck me Logan."

I saw his whole body shift, his muscles tensing.

"Jean," he growled, a low and dangerous warning. It sent a shiver all the way down my spine. Yes, yes, this is what I wanted out of him. The animal. Something deep and primal that had always pulled me to him. The thing that terrified me, fascinated me. I was in its grip now, and too caught up to back down.  
  
"Logan..." I hissed, and I could feel the Phoenix prickling just underneath my skin, lightening behind my eyes. "Now."

The second he snapped, the moment was so fast it was like a free fall.  
  
In a movement so quick and graceful I didn't even see it happen, his hot mouth was on mine. I felt his rough hand come up and cup my breast as he effortlessly lifted me, pressing my back against a tree and pinning me there.  
  
I was gasping, shocked, this assault on my senses, this gratifying sensation taking me over. It was everything I wanted and more, coming at me so fast I could hardly take it. I kissed him back savagely, mindlessly, twisting both my hands in his hair hard enough to hurt as he bit me gently on the neck, little pinpricks on my skin.  
  
I could feel the heavy bulge in his jeans grinding against my thigh and I tried to free one of my hands to struggle with the zipper. In a move that I found inexplicably arousing, he brushed my hand aside with his and pulled his cock out himself in one move. My hands were immediately there, on it, and I felt a wave of heat move through my body as he groaned. He was rock hard, long, and thick. It was better than I'd even imagined.  
  
 _And I have imagined it,_ I thought at him. I got a sudden flash of primal desire on his end, a hot and thick current of heat directed towards me.  
  
"So've I," he growled at me, pulling back my hair to expose my neck, using his mouth, moving down to a nipple, taking it in his mouth, sucking, biting softly, cupping my jaw and bringing my lips back to his.  
  
 _Bigger than what I imagined,_ I thought wickedly at him, and in response he snarled and pushed me up against the tree again, and for a moment I saw myself through his eyes, the pure lust and instinct coursing through his body. He thrust his tongue roughly into my mouth, and I clung to him like my life depended on it. Tangled together, hands and mouths moving, I urgently tried to get my own pants off, but they were my uniform pants, tight leather, and I only succeeded in lifting one bare leg up against his hip. I finally managed to kick them off and he ripped off my panties without a second thought, tossing aside the flimsy remains.  
  
 _He's going to fuck just like he fights_ , I thought dizzily, the thought running a pleasurable spark through my body. It was the way he moved that was so familiar to me, the same way he was in combat, the assured swift and graceful gestures. It never occurred to me that same motion and control would apply to sex as well and it turned me on beyond belief. I dug my fingernails into his biceps, repeating one thought in my mind. _Yes Logan, yes._  
  
Effortlessly, he took me in one arm and lay me down against the ground. I realized we were both fully naked, his hot skin against mine. I felt the soft grass press into my back and then his weight as he lay over me, supporting himself with one arm, the other hand slipping between my legs and testing the slickness there. I gasped and arched towards his touch, locking my legs around his waist. I felt his broad rough fingers skating over me, pausing when I gasped or whimpered. I could tell it was driving him wild, that he was trying to be controlled but his impatience was burning through. He was impossibly hard, pressed up against my stomach and a small part of me couldn't help but wonder if this was going to hurt.  
  
I reached up and pushed one hand through his hair, jet black and thick, god I'd wanted to feel all of it like this between us for so long. I pulled his face down to mine, let him kiss me deeply. For a second I couldn't believe I'd held back all these years. He reached down between us and I felt his cock against me, and all I could think was _yes yes yes,_ which I was sure I was projecting loud enough for him and anyone within a mile radius to hear. But he paused there, against me, and I could feel his entire body trembling, all that power, all that dangerous coiled strength and intensity being held still by pure force of will.  
  
"Logan," I said against his ear, "I need you...inside me..."  
  
"Jeannie," he said, and it turned into a low growl that sent shivers up and down my entire body. I'd never felt so turned on in my life, and knowing he was literally hanging by a thread made it doubly arousing.  
  
"Logan, please, now. I want it like this, just like this," I urged voice somewhere between a moan and a whisper, arching against his body running my nails down his back.  
  
"Jean," he gasped raggedly, and I could tell his entire face was contorting. "Jean, I can't hold back...If we do this... God...I've wanted you for so long..." I could feel the anguish in his voice and it drove me to even greater heights. His efforts were admirable, but he against me they were nothing, and I knew it. And I loved it.  
  
I could sense it, feel it--Logan wanted it so bad he was half delirious, but he couldn't allow himself the pleasure without my permission. I found it ludicrously touching, but I really didn't care about anything at that moment except him being inside me, now.  
  
"Yes," I whispered, eyes focusing, locking my gaze with his so that he'd see that I was right there with him, feeling, tasting, completely and utterly aware. "Don't stop. I want this. I want it just like this. Do it."  
  
I saw something black and fierce glint in his eyes as he broke, and I felt a sudden splitting pain and pleasure so sharp that I cried out, losing my breath. He thrust up all the way inside me, filling me. I could hear his thoughts racing through my head, _God she's tight ah so fucking good feels like heaven ..._  
  
We were both suddenly frantic, desperately wild. It was like whatever reservations we'd had were gone and now it was down to this, the consuming passion, the moment I had waited for, what had felt like a lifetime. Logan was pounding at me mercilessly, harder and faster than my mind could process, and his hands were tangled in my hair, his lips on my face, my breasts, and with a single loud cry I suddenly came around him harder than I'd ever come before, sobbing out his name, the intensity surprising me, tears spilling from the corners of my eyes.  
  
He backed off for a second, watched me as I came with abandon, _Logan Logan Logan_ in my head and on my lips. He was watching me with a predator's intense gaze, pupils fully dilated so that his eyes looked black, the raw satisfaction showing clearly on his ruggedly handsome face. Grasping my hips in his large hands, He thrust in slow and deep a few times, waiting for me to come back to him, and then when I my mind had cleared and I was pushing my hips back at him, matching his pace, he sped up again and buried his head in my hair, against my neck, moaning, "Ohhh, Jeannie... god."  
  
I had a second orgasm right on top of the first, and I rode it out just as I felt him start to come inside of me. As his hips snapped forward, the one hand clutching my ass suddenly pulled away to support his full weight on both arms. As he thrust once more, savagely, my entire body jumped in a thrill of fear as the claws on one hand unsheathed, buried themselves in the ground, as he spent himself inside me.  
  
Just as suddenly, everything was still. His claws retracted and I felt his weight come down on me, nearly crushing me, but at the last minute he slid an arm under me and rolled me against his chest, cradling me to him. Both of us were breathing hard, gasping, the insides of my thighs slick and wet, our bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat.  
  
Everything had happened so quickly, so intensely... my body had reacted so violently that my mind hadn't caught up yet.  
  
I still felt him inside of me, and as I saw the possessive, tender look in his eyes as he slowly pulled out, I heard _mine_ in his mind, _mine_ with the feral certainty of an animal, _mine_ with heart of a man. Leaning his head forward to deeply breathe in the scent of my neck, nip me gently, move his lips there. I realized that I had been crying, tears running down my face, and the realization shocked me as I wiped them away, taking a shuddering breath.  
  
Then, for a few minutes, there was silence. Only breathing, only comprehending, the both of us slowly fading back into reality. My entire world was simply sensation-the warmth and weight of Logan against me, his heat, the scratchiness of his chest hair pressing against the tender skin of my breasts, the dampness of the grass against my skin-I felt so overwhelmingly alive, so aware of every little thing.   
  
"Jesus Christ," Logan muttered, his body still wrapped against mine. I looked at him with helpless eyes and nodded mutely.  
  
It was only a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. I wanted to lie there with him, to fall asleep protected, with his warmth around me. Somehow that idea felt so right. But I couldn't. There were so many reasons why I couldn't, and then I knew what I had to do, now that it was done.  
  
I had to forget this.  
  
I had to leave, and I had to do it now, while I still could, because with every second ticking by this was becoming more and more complicated. I couldn't let it happen. The feeling stirring in my chest, the look in Logan's eyes, every second I stayed made it ten times harder to leave. And I felt panicked.  
  
"I-I have to go Logan," I stammered, pushing myself away from him, away from his warmth. I could feel his arms reluctantly move to let me up. There I was, on my knees, on the ground miles outside the mansion, full moon overhead, naked skin filling with goosebumps as his touch left me.

I felt stunned.  
  
This was just a dream. It was just a fantasy. It was never meant to be real. But I'd done it; I'd broken the rules. I had shattered them.  
  
Oh god had it really just happened? Was I really here?  
  
After disengaging myself from the inviting heat of his body, I stumbled to my feet and walked naked, my feet padding against the dirt and rocks as I went to pick up my scattered clothes one by one. My underwear was completely ruined. I pulled on my dirty clothing, feeling clumsy, disembodied. Logan knelt there naked, beside me, saying nothing.   
  
It was just a fantasy, something I fulfilled and now I could move on.  
  
Right?  
  
In a daze, as I redressed in my torn shirt and my ripped uniform pants. I realized I had lost a shoe and looked around, but my head felt like it was floating away.  
  
"I love you Jeannie," I heard softly.   
  
My head snapped back to Wolverine's voice, but where he had been crouched, watching me, he was gone.  
  
I staggered back to the mansion a complete wreck. I honestly don't even know how I made it, more so how I made it without anyone seeing me, because the game would have been up. I was in no condition to make up some brilliant lie, it was all I could do to keep my legs moving. I was alternately sobbing and laughing, and my body felt like it was on fire. Everywhere, everything, I was remembering it, psychic video, playing through my head, his rough hands, his hot mouth, the amazing feeling of being filled by him, possessed by him, consuming each other...I'd never felt, never done anything like that before.

They say to be careful what you wish for. I was understanding why.

I slipped inside silently, back into my room-- back into our room, Scott's room, and I got into the shower. With the glass door closed, I slid down the shower wall and sat, letting the warm water hit my face like staccato raindrops. I spent a few minutes just trying to breath, pulling all my pieces back together. I washed my hair and saw a leaf float down the drain. I toweled off and climbed into bed with Scott. Scott slumbering, unaware, completely ignorant that his wife had just made the ultimate betrayal.

Me. I had done it. I had done something I could never, never erase. I'd cheated on him. And as my skin still buzzed with the pleasure, the agony, and the adrenaline, I put my face in my hands. I burned.

And I told myself, never again. 


End file.
